Widower's Bold Request

A Widower's Bold Request:

He just came right out and asked me if I thought she would ever consider going to bed with him. He confessed to me that after his wife died, he had often fantasized about being with with my wife, Claire. I didn't think I would ever tell her, but when she asked me what Jim and I were talking about at his car for so long, I just came out with it. I figured she would be shocked.

"He asked if you'd ever consider sleeping with him, asked how I would feel about that. I said it would be up to you," I told her.

"So is that true? Would it be up to me?" she asked. I said of course it would. "Then tell him yes," she announced casually, without any hesitation. "It would only be sex, right? He is a good friend. Tell him sure. It would be the least we could do for him," she said without any misgivings. "You have always said monogamy was overrated."

This is one of those times when your words come back to haunt you. I had said that about monogamy, but I had also fantasized about her with another man, but it was just that, a fantasy. I never thought it would come true. It was like those thoughts of doing something really dangerous. You never expected it to happen, but the seed was still planted. When she said, "Sure," the old fantasy came back, like a freight train. I could not get it out of my head. If I closed my eyes, I saw them fucking. If I picked up a book, images of him fucking her filled the pages. The fact was, it excited me to think about. It did scare me, but like driving fast, it was enticing. It turned me on incredibly to imagine. I pictured it, jacked off to thoughts of it, but was terrified by it at the same time.

I wondered what they would do. Would they kiss and make out like teens, or would it be a clinical fuck that was clearly just sex? Strangely, my fantasies were of the romantic, French kissing type that were heated and passionate. I dreamed of them as lovers, not simply friends enjoying a fine meal, but wild, wanton sex partners who could not get enough of each other.

So, the question was, would I give my blessing and be anguished and tortured over it, or would I let go and enjoy it like a cuckold husband? Did I mean what I said, or was it just bluff? Even with my proselytizing, I was not really sure where I stood. Did I love her enough that it could be unconditional, or was I insecure enough that it would torment me?

Finally, I asked her if she was really going to go through with it. "You mean fucking Jim? Why not? Isn't that what you have fantasized about, seeing me with another man?"

I told her I had, yes, but that I was unsure, that I was having doubts about whether it was just a fantasy, or if I really wanted it.

"Well, you can't have it both ways," she said. "You know that. I either fuck him or I don't. You either meant it or you didn't. Let me know, because I have no problem with helping out our old friend," she said, a little annoyed by my equivocating. "Either tell me to go ahead, or come clean that it was just talk. Admit you are too insecure to live up to your own boasts."

"I really do feel sex can just be sex," she said calmly. "He wants a good fuck, since it has been so long for him, I am fine with giving a friend what he needs. So, you decide. I fuck our friend or I don't. Up to you." With that she left the room.

There it was, the challenge. Put up or shut up. Calmly let her fuck our friend because he's incredibly horny, or admit it was just talk and slither off to a corner. and admit it was just smoke and tell her I couldn't handle it. We watched porn together. We're pretty open about our feelings, but it may have just been phony prattle.

I was thinking about it when the decision hit me like a runaway train. Just fucking do it, I told myself. Stand up and be a man and tell her you give her the choice. Give her the chance to make up her own mind. "Okay," I said. "Do what you want."

"It has always been my choice," she said, a little miffed that I would think it had all been up to me. Of course it was her decision. It was her body. She could, in fact, fuck whoever she wanted. There was no 'me' in it. If she didn't, and she wanted to, then it would be because she had decided I couldn't handle her fucking another man. The fact that it was a friend of ours made it just a little harder.

I could see that she resented the fact that I thought the choice was mine. "Have you talked to him about it?" I asked one night as we climbed into bed.

"I have, yes," she said turning off the light, but offering no further comment.

I couldn't let it just go at that. "So, what did you say?"

"I said I would be happy to help him get over his horniness," she said turning away from me. "I said I would like to have sex with him, but I told him you weren't as sure about it as you have let on. He said then he wouldn't do it, not if you weren't a hundred percent. I really was sorry to hear that," she said turning back around to face me in the dark.

"I was wrong to say I believed sex was okay with other people if I wasn't being absolutely truthful. I see that is not fair. I have thought a lot about it and I really think you should. In fact, I want you to," I said, actually impressed that I was able to not only say it but mean it.

"If I did, you would not torture yourself and go through hell when I was with him?" she asked. I told her I had done a lot of thinking, reading, and even talking to a therapist. I am sure I can handle it. Please, be with our friend and give him the piece of ass he has been missing for five years."

"So I am just a piece of ass?" she said pretending to be hurt.

"The best piece of ass he will ever get," I said taking her in my arms as we stretched out under the covers. The sex we had that night was fantastic. It seemed to be generated by the decision to encourage her to have sex with my widowed friend. It was a slow, smoldering kind of sex that comes from deep feelings and warmth. After we both came, a rarity actually of late, we just held one another until we fell off to sleep. There was no turning over and drifting off, we slept wrapped around one another.

In the morning I actually felt good, excited, really, that I had been able to accept what I had maintained were my true feelings. I guess it was the realization that, in fact, I may just believe what I had always said. Like before, the idea did arouse me. I did feel a shot of excitement over the fantasy-inspired idea of her being with someone else. We decided to treat it like a prom date. She would go out with him, have dinner, see a play or a movie, stay at a hotel, and fuck like newlyweds until the sun came up.

Like in my fantasy, I actually started to like the idea. I thought of it the night before, mostly all night, as I looked up into the dark, imagining them under sheets getting wild and affectionate all night.

It was clear he had the hots for her, and that actually made it hotter for me. I knew he liked oral, as did she, and so I envisioned that in great detail much of the time. I also saw him pushing into her in rapid, energetic thrusts that jarred her body with each forward movement. I saw her smile as he fucked her, like a bride enjoying pre-fucking cake.

Part of the deal was, she would tell me about every detail when she got home. We didn't figure she'd be home before late afternoon, since they would most likely fuck all night and sleep all day. The sleep all day was all right because I figured I would not get much sleep either. I figured to jack off most of the night, thinking of what was happening on the top floor of the Hilton. Yes, we thought their coupling deserved the best, so I put out big bucks so my wife could get hammered by my friend in a very fine atmosphere.

I got excited helping her get ready for Jim. She let me shave her mound and powder and perfume her privates for the big event. We talked as I prepared her about what she would do with my old buddy. Coquettishly, she described what she would have him do to her pussy, what she would do to him, and what they would do together.

She sat on the edge of the tub and opened her legs, striking a pose she said she would do to catch his attention. I said if in a hotel room to fuck his friend's wife he had to have get his attention then she might as well just do herself and go to sleep.

"Believe me," Claire said, "he won't need to be told what to do. I guarantee, he will know. We have already had phone sex to get things ready," she said with a smile. I knew nothing about them having phone sex already, but it gave me somewhat of a charge to hear.

"So, you have started already?" I said. She just grinned. "You've done some fantasizing about this?" I asked, knowing for sure she had. She nodded. "Right there beside me at night? A little fantasy fucking next to me, huh?"

"Right there in your own bed," she said grinning. "Your wife is thinking of fucking your friend as you sleep."

We kissed and I could feel the heat of her arousal in her lips.

When she got home from being with Jim it was five in the afternoon. She looked ravishing, happy, and well-fucked. My friend had clearly entertained my wife marvelously. She simply glowed. I patted the seat next to me and took her hand. She suggested we go to the bedroom to hear the details in the right setting. I held her hand and followed her to the bedroom, eager to hear all about her night at the Hilton with our friend who needed some physical attention.

She began to undress as she stood next to the bed. She did a slow striptease and as she did she began telling me about her night at the hotel, taking off an item and telling a detail about her time with Jim as she did. "We got naked quickly," she said. I knew she liked to be naked, so I was sure she would do that.

As she took off her blouse, she said, "We started in the elevator, kissing and fondling one another as we rode to the 15th floor. I let him take my panties off and keep them as a trophy to remember our Hilton experience. He put his hand under my skirt," she said as she stripped off her skirt. Her panties came off as she said, "I had an orgasm before we even got to the room."

She removed her bra and told me how they got on the bed with her at the pillow, facing the foot of the bed with her legs open and her knees up. Jim knelt between her thighs and lowered himself to his stomach, putting his mouth at her pussy. "He began licking me," she said as she tossed her clothes on the chair. "He put his tongue in me and I almost came again just from that. Jim is very good at eating pussy," she said with a wide smile.

He asked me if I liked being on top or underneath. I said on top was my favorite and he said he liked that, that Nancy really liked it too. "I came on top of him for my second orgasm of the evening. If you get inside of me, I'll tell you about our time in the shower," she said gleefully.

As I fucked her, she said Jim liked telling her what Nancy liked to do in bed. "She told him," my wife said, "when she knew she would not last long, to find someone to have sex with, and he said she mentioned me. It was so sweet that he wanted to tell me about what she liked. He loved her so much, and they had a great sex life."

She told me they had sex most of the night and slept until eleven thirty in the morning. When they woke up they had sex again, then relaxed for a while and chatted, mostly about Nancy. They went to breakfast at two, then went back to the room, which they had paid extra for and had it until three. In the room, they once again had sex and left at two forty-five. Before dropping her off, they drove to the cliffs and watched the waves and talked for awhile while they sat in the car.

After she had told me everything about her time with Jim at the Hilton, we stayed in bed and relaxed, not having to talk. "You really have been a loving wife," I said. "When he asked me about sleeping with you, I didn't realize it could be such a positive experience." She listened and I knew there was something she wanted to say.

Finally, she said, "I would like last night to be just the first of many times with him, but only if you won't mind," she added. My fantasy had been realized, and I had enjoyed it like I'd hoped. It has been three years since my wife spent her first night with my widowed friend Jim, but there have been many since that first time at the Hilton. The others haven't been at such swanky digs, but they all have been special. How do I know? I can see it in her eyes.